I:I?>

[rehabstyle]

Comments

perhaps perhaps

[anonymous]

In Paris a boy looks at a puddle of water on the street and sees his face and thinks the view of a peasant to be particularly pleasant because the day is so gray and his mother so angry and that yes, he likes this private space on the street where he can see himself alone without the street, a private view of who he is, the sky lite and the air filling his body to feel high of height in a frozen perspective of time, that memory is with him as he rests the rest of his life, he forgets at times. Walks looking for it without recalling what he is specifically looking for. It: a feeling of missing, a way of seeing who he has become as a man, he travels through the city searching for a way to find this dead feeling, the internal I but finds it predispositioned to inquire. There is a billboard in the city. A woman with two watches vogues at him humbling him under her breath that is sweet blossoms in the wrong seasons yet exactly right to make him question civilization and why man decided to settle down. He wonders. He ponders perhaps it is her, a way to fill the void, maybe this is what is missing inside him, a connection with someone who he has had. The face feels familiar though and he goes to socialize thinking that maybe there he will meet this face he longs to see. He meets many, they are all kind and generous. He meets a few that remind him of his mother and is pleased by the relation. What matters is the feeling, the missing piece. There is a boy, a boy relative boy who meets him here and there in his apartment building. Usually he buys a paper from him and forgets to say thank you. Today there is change and he gives it to him. An exchange is made as he continues looking for what he lost. Inside his pocket he finds a memory of a college sweet heart. He calls, she is with her new boyfriend watching movies. She does not call back. They move in silence, through the city, looking for their lost times. The time when she did not seize him, when he forgot his camera, when there was another lover, time had fallen, into the laps of the owners jumps opportunity. We have a feeling in us that is waiting to be broken, still the world is strong and keeps us grounded through the fog and mistakes victories and salvations. She watches her as she watches her. He sees her see her she her see him see him see him see her who's face gone. He sees her see her see him gone. She. Him. But they are facing one another? They are looking at the sight of faces seeing, wondering, waiting, waiting waiting. Perhaps there is not an end to this cycle. Perhaps they turn around and realize that beyond the meaning of the billboard they are others there, the same who came before who want to be seen, the one's with faces that are. There in the blankness of black and white lays a space for you and me and all those eyes to see how different and profound this world can be but they can not see us no we can not see them, in there here her way, it is how it is. When will be the time to see who we are under our skin? In lies a pulse, inaccessible is a shimmering adjective, in us is understanding, a way of filling the sentences with exclamations or no sentences at all

perhaps perhaps

[anonymous]

the way of connecting reason with matter with space and time and the remember the times who needs the feeling of being alive the eye the I the everything encompassed in one-we all do- we are all timing the time it takes to change and revolt ourselves into a new awakening of the old that roles over us in us in a blanket leveling the strangers with the strange and making what has never been made a fucking joy ride of understanding notunderstanding how absolutely amazing we all are and the representations notwithstanding that we share in us ourselves myselves byselves triselves are shelved in decadence and chocolate, forget me nots and condoms on top of a mantle and the greatest weakness is not believing in the unbelievable, missing the punches not jumping in to join the ride for the feeling of being beaten is greater than winning as winning is greater than being beaten out of an eye to eye relationship everything and nothing goes too fast and too slow and too painful and too enjoyable to imagine being (together) until out of the insanity comes a rebirth or reflection that just is is just possibly what we needed, a lead change sea change, a resetting of time space and face